


beneath the stars that shine

by foryoo



Category: LOONA (Korea Band)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-02-04 10:06:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18602341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foryoo/pseuds/foryoo
Summary: jungeun reminds jinsol of the stars.





	beneath the stars that shine

 

jungeun reminds her of the stars.

she's the girl waving in her memories, the one that her eyes could spot immediately, not because of her ridiculous hair color, but because of something more innate — as if it's meant to happen, as if it's only natural.

her photographic memory fondly remembers everything about jungeun’s face, scenery and events, high-quality and glowing, like the photographs people would put in frames that lasts for a lifetime.

ash blonde hair, beautiful brown eyes, all of her, behind the sunflowers, pressed against her on the bleachers, arms gangling and awkward but it still works, like a miracle, like how things with her always go.

as if it's what she's made of.

jungeun reminds her of the stars.

she leaves behind the trail of it on everything she touches.

jinsol could feel stars beating in her veins.

 

 

 

 

"i feel shitty," jungeun says, face scrunching up, morphing into some form that jinsol was trying her best not to laugh at. 

"and why is that?" jinsol asks, looking up at the sky they are under, white trails over the blanket of blue.

"you know, tomorrow is our last competition together and all. i kinda feel shitty just by thinking about it."

jinsol lets out a breathless laugh.

"jungeun, i'm only graduating. you'll still be here next year."

"it won't be the same without you," jungeun replies, head on jinsol's lap, and she tilts to one side to meet the older girl’s eyes, "but i don't regret choosing to be with you, jinsol."

and then jungeun smiles, grin, and stars and all, and jinsol could feel a thousand of galaxies shifting and moving underneath the existence of the girl on her lap, and something that tasted like ‘me too’ and ‘it's not the last’ was burning on her throat.

and it's all poetic, really, so poetic that jinsol literally cries.

jungeun sits up, cupping her face, her thumbs grazing the corners of jinsol’s eyes, pushing the tears away, warm, gentle and smiling.

"i love you."

 

they kissed for the first time that day.

 

 

 

 

her fingers deftly moved from one key to another, the piano elegantly giving her the exact sounds that she wanted to get, floating, surrounding both of them.

jungeun is sitting on the floor, back leaning on the chair jinsol was occupying, and the latter knows even without looking that jungeun was smiling. 

"beethoven?"

"i thought you wouldn’t know this," jinsol replies, fingers working on perfect muscle memory as she shifts more of her focus on jungeun. "piano sonata no. 8."

jungeun opts not to reply to the first jab, and instead rolls her head to rest it on jinsol's lap as the older girl played, and jinsol knows it was kind of unfair, to play this piece while jungeun was like this, but she felt the need to.

"my grandmother used to play this."

jinsol swallows down the questions: 

_what’s her name?_

_what was she like?_

_were you two close?_

she shifts to the second movement, lullaby, and feels jungeun move her head, just a few inches, kissing her knees.

"thank you."

 

jinsol played the piece perfectly, but even so, something in her felt dislodged.

 

 

 

 

stepping into bbc high after a year of college was weird, like coming back to your old hometown, only to find out that your apartment was already demolished, and the old landlady already passed away. like fostering a flower and making it bloom beautifully, only for someone to come and take it away, proclaiming ownership when you were the only one that got your hands dirty. 

alright, so maybe not something that sounds as bitter-inducing as that —

but jinsol comes back to second years as third years and a whole new crop of bright-faced, passionate freshmen, ready to take the world by storm.

she watches the others — heejin and hyunjin, only managing to give a small wave before they went back to practice, making a gesture as if to say ‘sorry, wait a little bit.’

jinsol shoos them away, a smile plastered on her face.

they exude enthusiasm and passion, so much that it nearly rekindled the already-long gone flame in jinsol, tampered down by responsibilities and studies and telescope operations and how to locate the stars. seeing them fired up and ready to go, though, made her think of the time when she was glowing and feverish with the will to win, to hold the world in her hands.

new coaches.

new members.

"jinsol!"

same team. 

she turns and sees jungeun running towards her, still exuding charisma and confidence — bold and familiar, so,  _so_  familiar that she could feel the place morph back into what it felt like from three years ago until last year, when she too, was still someone who was ready to take on the world.

 

jungeun envelops her in a tight hug, dripping wet and all, but jinsol didn't mind —

 

she didn't mind because the only thing she could think of was the word  _home_.

 

 

 

 

"i want a pet fish," jinsol says, head resting over jungeun’s, much to the latter's chagrin. "a blue betta fish to be exact." 

"but some people say having a pet fish causes bad luck," jungeun retaliates, but looks over the displayed pet, anyway, along with jinsol. "plus, taking care of it is gonna take up so much work."

it was the middle of january, with the snow still falling, there they stood, buried in scarves and coats, paper bags hanging off their hands. there were a lot of people, but they managed to gather most of the things they needed, what with jungeun's sentimentality that asked for much cups and jinsol's aesthetic that ended up with most of their furniture and household materials being as simple and minimalist as possible.

it felt like their chests were going to burst.

 

the excitement that one gets from living with someone you love, alone, is unbearable at most, and here they are, walking around seoul, picking out things for their new apartment — their  _home_.

 

it was worth it.

 

 

 

 

they came home with more than ten plates, ten cups, forks, spoons and knives, and all the other things that they purchased from the furniture store. the fish — "blue", swims freely in his aquarium, on a mini table beside the bookshelf that arrived the day before.

 

they take a step back, taking it all in, and at the ages of 21 and 23, they fully learned what it meant to belong.

 

 

 

 

jungeun's laughs were the kind that traveled through her veins and exploded in her stomach. 

christmas lights were placed up, hanging around and across the huge windows of their apartment. the place itself was spacious and somewhere a bit far from the city. with mariah carey’s "all i want for christmas is you" playing on the radio, stacks and stacks of books, reference materials and readings littered around the place.

the music was loud, but jinsol didn't mind.

"you can't build the christmas tree alone, sol." she hears from behind her, tone whining, and jinsol wonders if she accidentally moved in and dated a five-year-old for years.

"help me, then."

 

and so, they did.

 

 

 

 

it was when they got stuck for thirty minutes at the vending machine that ate up jungeun's money that jinsol first realized that she was so,  _so_  fucked. 

"why did you even jam in five thousand won? don't you have any change?"

"i don't. i just wanted to buy you a drink..."

she blinks at jungeun, confused and asking for an explanation.

jungeun blushes, her ears turning red — the weight of her words probably just sinking in by then, fidgety and reluctant to answer jinsol's unvoiced question.

"i-i just… i wanted you to feel... appreciated?"

jungeun turns even redder.

and jinsol, realizing but not yet fully comprehending, stares at her, speechless, mouth opening, before closing it and bringing a hand up her face to cover it.

she's so fucked,  _so_  fucked for falling in love with this girl in front of her, and she'll probably regret it, someday, but she doesn't really care anymore, she thinks. 

"jinsol?"

"c'mon, let's just go to a nearby café." jinsol says, taking her hand away from her face, looking straight at jungeun before moving forward, holding her hand.

 

 

 

 

"you didn't need to buy this for me," jinsol whispers, tucked underneath the comforters with jungeun beside her. "this is too expensive." 

"it isn't really!"

thousands of stars spread themselves against their ceilings and walls and everything else — constellations and clusters — and when jungeun lifts a hand to point towards the orion, there were stars embedded its' selves on her arm, glittering against her skin.

they spent their time whispering the names and details of the constellations, the stars, how they move, how far away they are from each other.

"even if they look like they're almost touching?" jungeun asks, eyes wide in wonder and amazement, reflecting the stars.

jinsol stares at her, choking down the words ‘thank you’ and ‘i love you.’

"yeah."

 

 

 

 

it wouldn't turn on, no matter what she did. 

jinsol had googled it already, but after the sixth "i have the same problem" in the fourth forum she checked, she gives up, and opens her normal lamp, collapsing on the bed.

she gives the space projector lamp a sidelong glance — longing and unrelenting — before trying one more time.

she gets a flashback of the stars exploding in her room, from a few years ago, when they still lit up and when the bed wasn't as cold and lonely.

her hands went limp, still holding the cord, eyes softly looking down the lamp.

"it doesn't matter, anymore."

 

 

 

 

she kicks the vending machine, hoping that it would either spit her money out or give her what she wanted. 

she sighs, before pressing another button, causing the machine to make some whirring sound, and she wonders how she forgot that half the vending machines in seoul were made from the deepest part of hell. she should know better than anyone.

her eyes stare harder at the machine as it made some dying sounds, noting the red exterior, faded, shade familiar and nostalgic, for some reason.

the vending machine already spits out the drink the moment she realizes why.

 

 

 

 

the christmas tree collected dust in the closet. 

jinsol moves out of the apartment every christmas to either celebrate with her fellow university professors or with haseul and sooyoung.

this year, she celebrates it alone, looking down at the christmas lights that illuminated the campus grounds, standing up on the observatory tower. fireworks exploding up in the sky, higher than the distant ferris wheel that she could see, the spark struggling to replace the stars that didn't show up that night. the snow falling was mild, the air chilly, and she leans over the edge, hands nursing the warm coffee she bought earlier.

she lets out a breathy laugh, vapor coming out her mouth, dissipating in the air, the silence somehow more unbearable.

 

"merry christmas," she mutters — the cold air piercing her lungs, and she convinces herself that that's the reason for her tears.

 

 

 

 

 

the betta fish was bad luck. but it's not the fish's fault.

 

at 28, jinsol learned how to lose something and not blame anything.

 

 

 

 

 

there is something about spending reunions with her closest friends in the cemetery, where no one minds if she pretends for a while that jungeun still exists, where no one sends her a look of pity or asks her if she’s alright every five seconds. 

there is something about feeling grateful to have people who know exactly what to do. there is something about the gravestone feeling less cold every april, when she passes the beer around and eats her favorite chips, when the smell of the flowers she bought isn't as suffocating as usual, when it doesn't feel lonely.

but there is also something about feeling all the emotions coming back the moment she steps in their apartment after, the realization still hitting her hard after five years, fingers tingling, head hurting —

she just wants jungeun back.

 

jinsol hasn't tasted the word  _home_  in years.

 

 

 

 

jinsol presses in a few notes, not really paying attention. 

she could still remember the ghost of the warmth that always stayed on the floor by her feet, leaning on her, kissing her knees.

 

_‘thank you.’_

 

there was none.

 

there was only a draft of a eulogy and a lone pen.

 

 

 

 

"i never told you how much i love you. you never told me you were dying. it was the shock i never needed. until now, medical jargons can't fit in my mouth the way the stars, the galaxies or your name does. i don't know what happened, what caused this, but all i now is that i never got to say goodbye...

jungeun, you were a morning star. and just like every great star, you left a great black hole in my heart and the void you left is a place no one else could ever fill."

 

 

 

 

but time heals all wounds. there will be a day when jinsol will wake up, the sun is shining in a way that makes her feel better, and everything seems lighter, and she will feel the coldness slowly disappear. it gradually climbs down, letting in the warmth that she thought she had lost forever.

then she feels it. 

the gentle thumping of her heart underneath her chest, a gentle reminder, brown eyes, and ash blonde hair.

 

‘ _welcome home.’_

 

it fixes her.

 

 

 

 

jinsol's heart skips a beat when the star lamp opens, eyes widening, taking in the appearance of the stars floating in front of her once again, unwanted tears suddenly springing out of her eyes. 

for a moment, she could hear jungeun's voice — gentle and endearing.

 

_‘i love you.’_

 

jinsol could feel stars beating in her veins.

 

 


End file.
